III The Man

"I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. He
comes here once in a while. I do not know whether or not he was in
the building to-night, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes
Clausen's eye."

"His name."

"Brotherson. A very uncommon person in many respects; quite capable
of such an eccentricity, but incapable, I should say, of crime. He's
a gifted talker and so well read that he can hold one's attention for
hours. Of his tastes, I can only say that they appear to be mainly
scientific. But he is not averse to society, and is always very well
dressed."

"A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together."

"This man is an exception to all rules. The one I'm speaking of, I
mean. I don't say that he's the fellow seen pottering in the snow."

"Call up Clausen."

The manager stepped to the telephone.

We have hundreds more books for your enjoyment. Read them all!

Meanwhile, George had advanced to speak to a man who had beckoned
to him from the other side of the room, and with whom in another
moment I saw him step out. Thus deserted, I sank into a chair near
one of the windows. Never had I felt more uncomfortable. To
attribute guilt to a totally unknown person - a person who is little
more to you than a shadowy silhouette against a background of snow
- is easy enough and not very disturbing to the conscience. But
to hear that person named; given positive attributes; lifted from
the indefinite into a living, breathing actuality, with a man's
hopes, purposes and responsibilities, is an entirely different
proposition. This Brotherson might be the most innocent person
alive; and, if so, what had we done? Nothing to congratulate
ourselves upon, certainly. And George was not present to comfort
and encourage me. He was -

Where was he? The man who had carried him off was the youngest in
the group. What had he wanted of George? Those who remained
showed no interest in the matter. They had enough to say among
themselves. But I was interested - naturally so, and, in my
uneasiness, glanced restlessly from the window, the shade of which
was up. The outlook was a very peaceful one. This room faced
a side street, and, as my eyes fell upon the whitened pavements, I
received an answer to one, and that the most anxious, of my queries.
This was the street into which we had turned, in the wake of the
handsome stranger they were trying at this very moment to identify
with Brotherson. George had evidently been asked to point out the
exact spot where the man had stopped, for I could see from my
vantage point two figures bending near the kerb, and even pawing
at the snow which lay there. It gave me a slight turn when one of
them - I do not think it was George - began to rub his hands
together in much the way the unknown gentleman had done, and, in
my excitement, I probably uttered some sort of an ejaculation, for
I was suddenly conscious of a silence in the room, and when I
turned saw all the men about me looking my way.